All I Want For Christmas Is You
by HisNameIsPeter
Summary: Sherlock wants to show his appreciation for a specail friend. Follow Sherlock as he tries to seek out the perfect Christmas gift for Molly. Written for the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge.


**I hope this will make you laugh or cry. It's supposed to be cute and fluffy and sentimental. If not, I hope it will make you review (hint, hint). **

**This is written for the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. Check out my profile for the complete list of rules and requirements. It's never too late to join!**

**This is a story of Sherlolly, my major Sherlock OTP. As you read, think of the important people and your life. Are they friends, or something more?**

**Standard Disclaimer. Have a happy holidays!**

**-HisNameIsPeter**

It was a silly idea, really.

Sherlock thought so at least. But, John, being his sentimental person, had insisted such. He was unknowing at Sherlock's cluelessness. What do girl's like? What do you get a friend for the holidays? Friend, he wondered. It was a strong word. Molly had been a friend to him. A teacher, to the struggling. A giver, to the poor. An angel, to the religious. A hero, to the frightened.

Friend was good enough for Sherlock. Or was she more?

Sherlock wrapped his coat more tightly around himself and tucked in his scarf, hoping to prevent air from leaking onto his cool skin. The blustery air chilled his face as he held out his hand for a sleek black cab passing by.

December in London was crisp and frosty. Slush gathered in heaps at the edges of the road and light flurries dotted the pale gray sky.

It was Christmas Eve Eve (at least that's what John immaturely called it; you can't have an Eve of an Eve), and the sidewalks were crowded with last minute shoppers searching to find the perfect gift. Sherlock wondered if that was what he was perceived to be; a heart throb desperate to impress a girl with their expensive gift. Clearly, misconceptions and Christmas went hand in hand.

All the shops were lit with festive décor. Lights and garland lined rooftops and a colorful wreath dangled from nearly every window. Sherlock had held Mrs. Hudson back from going over the top for the holidays, but he had allowed a small tree in the window and holly around the door. The inside of 221B was merrier than the outside made it appear.

Sherlock tapped the window and the cab slowed to a stop. He paid the young man in the driver's seat and stepped up onto the sidewalk.

Most every shop was open. Sherlock strolled along the street, peeking in shop windows in search for a Christmas gift. An ornament, maybe? A card? How about one of those stuffed reindeer with jingle bells?

Frustrated, the detective walked nearly two kilometers before actually poking into a store. The shop he stopped at was small with red shutters and a wreath on the door with a large bow. Inside was bright and merry with ribbons and snowflakes hung in the corners. It was warm and welcoming compared to the 26° temperatures beyond the door.

When the door softly slid shut, it caused a jingle bell to ring out as it closed. The walls of the one-room shop was lined in shelves holding scarfs and hats, ornaments and cards, jewelry and gems, and snow globes galore. Sherlock walked studiously, one foot in front of the other, and examined the shelves for Molly's present.

It needed to be perfect. He couldn't show affection in the way John used to do in his emails. He didn't love Molly. Sure, she was smart, pretty, kind, and physically attractive. She was caring and sweet, yet stubborn when she wanted to be. She was an accomplished woman, and –

Sherlock shook his thoughts away, surprised to be admiring a girl in that way. It wasn't the point of his thoughts. He just got – sidetracked.

It was a friendship gift, he decided firmly. Merely a symbol of appreciation. That's all it was. Nothing more. At least, that's what logic convinced him into thinking.

"Can I help you?"

A soft voice spoke up from the back of the shop. Sherlock stepped briskly down the aisle to the source of the voice.

A little elderly woman looked up from behind the counter at the tall and slender man with curious eyes. She was only about five foot eight inches with wispy gray hair and a Christmas colored apron.

"Trying to find the perfect gift for a special someone? A female someone?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "A friend."

The woman nodded knowingly and beckoned Sherlock to the back into a smaller room. There were a handful more snow globes, ice skates, children's Christmas books, and more. The woman showed him several different gifts, offering ideas which the detective all denied. The woman shrugged at his stubbornness and told him that he could look around as much as he wanted.

Sherlock sat down in defeat in a small wooden chair. He even tried searching his Mind Palace for ideas. Unsurprisingly, he knew nothing, seeing as he only saved useful information. He frowned, thinking that he never would have expected himself to journey for a nice Christmas gift.

He swung his feet back and forth, surveying the room, when he heard a soft thump and a twinkling tune. Sherlock sat up and glanced around for any disturbance. He peered below his chair, where he found he had knocked over a box of supplies. As for the music, a small wooden box with a silver knob had opened and let out a song.

It was a music box. Small, but meaningful, singing a sweet tune that rose into the air, high above. It danced and pranced across the room and twirled up the chimney. It scurried across rooftops and with a mighty leap, shot into the sky high above London, wishing everyone far and wide a happy holidays.

The tune was familiar. It was "All I Want for Christmas is You". And Sherlock knew. He couldn't quite explain it, but he got a feeling within him that this was the perfect gift for Molly. It was small. It was insignificant and couldn't be used. So, why was this the right gift?

It meant something. Some may say it meant love, hope, or peace. But it meant "Thank you". Sherlock knew this. Molly would know this. He imagined her surprise when she opened the box and the merry song filled her ears. She would laugh, maybe. Or cry. He didn't know, but it would bring her emotion, and that meant something.

It was the giving that made a difference. Sherlock thought of the song as he carried the little box out into the room where the old woman wrapped it in red paper. He paid and wondered if it was too much. Would Molly take this the wrong way?

But Sherlock decided that maybe the song was right. Maybe just being with her would make him happy. After all, she was a friend.

A friend. Nothing more.


End file.
